


Christine

by LitMech (PatrioticFrisbee)



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And he's not happy about it, Gen, He's Angsty and in love, He's in Europe anyway, Loki is Sixteen, Loki-centric, M/M, Masterbation, Thor has no idea what's going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatrioticFrisbee/pseuds/LitMech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki is young, his mother passes. He goes to the internet and argues with a boy who lives on the entire other side of the country, and yet. They become best friends.</p><p>In which Loki is afraid of being forgotten, is afraid of being in love, and both are caused by this best friend he's only known through computer screens.</p><p>or</p><p>"They had spent the day sending each other snap chats of themselves fighting with with dragons, or with missing eyes, or as their fathers, which had them both laughing. Pre-game, Loki had sent a picture of himself with painted pigtails and pom poms, a simple caption ‘Look, I’m Jane. Raw Raw.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christine

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at three in the morning. A piece of a much larger work, but this wont make it into it. I needed to get it out...a sigh of relief.
> 
> It will be edited again later. But it's three AM. And I am tired.

They had been friends for years. He liked to think of it as having an elf in his pocket to talk to him. Something he could pull out at any time and there, lo and behold, was a response. Or a comforting word. Or a joke (even if they were dreadful).

It’s amazing how you can meet someone who lives on the opposite coast, argue about whether Charizard or Rapidash is the better first gen fire type, and become friends for life.

Loki is alone tonight. His bedroom is cool and quiet, his fan making lazy circles above and the quiet hum of Suburbia outside is comforting. It’s quiet and familiar, his own piece of heaven. It’s made only better by his extraordinarily comfortable bed, his cat that had taken up his feet as a pillow, and his book. Tea was cooling on his side table and, here and again he’d remember he had it. Would sip from it, check his phone, and go back to his book.

As he reads, and as his tea goes cold, his book does as well. That isn’t to say he doesn’t adore Stephen King. Christine is one of his favorites not only for the eerie strangeness of the book itself but for the odd, unfinished feeling the ending of the book always leaves in him. The questions it always brings up, all of them unanswered. But tonight, Christine in all her inanimate obsessiveness cannot hold his attention. He knows why, which is why he doesn’t set his book aside. He re-reads the page for the third time and again doesn’t have any idea what was on it.

Thor has been gone for a week. Six days, actually, so just short. Almost seven. And, loathe as he is to admit it, Loki is bored. He’s more than bored, he’s starting to be rather ridiculously sad over that fact. Finally he snaps his novel shut and lays it in his lap, stares at his wall in the dim light of his bedside lamp. He’s sad over the fact, and that makes him angry. It isn’t as though he doesn’t have friends. He does, he has friends. They change regularly because some of them don’t need anything from him anymore, but he hangs out with people. He hands out with his brothers.

Sort of.

He shoves some hair from his face and tosses Christine uselessly. She lands on the foot of his bed and stops against a wrinkle in his quilt. He’s lonely. He’s tired and he’s lonely and he knows, knows Thor is having a beautiful time off in France and Italy or wherever that damnable cruise went. Loki still choked on the idea. A cruise, for Thor’s graduation. No, not just a cruise but a European Cruise. The spoiled brat.

A European cruise without cell service or free internet, even.

If Thor found a café with wifi, he occasionally shot Loki an email. _It’s beautiful here,_ he’d say. _You’d love it. Lots of ancient places for you to sit and read in. Lots of books, too. It’s old, here, like your soul._

Loki is lonely for Thor and he knows it. He looks at his phone and picks it up, almost as though he imagines it to bite him.  
Early that year, the previous semester, Thor sent him a snap chat. Loki isn’t sure if Thor remembers the incident, but Loki does. Somewhere in the dark Hel is clawing at her scratching post and Loki can hear her purring.

He picks his phone up, guilt already making his shoulders ache.

//=//

_Friday night with Interview with a Vampire. You cannot go wrong._

_He’s almost through Louis’ final sunlight moments of first-life when his phone makes an awful noise as it vibrates across the side table. Hel (half of her face was white, he could not hope to name her anything else) fled from his feet as he moved to chase the shaking droid before it fell to the floor. Must be after practice, then. Just as well, Loki knew it would be a late one and he had absolutely not been waiting up specifically for Thor’s post-practice update._

__

_They had spent the day sending each other snap chats of themselves fighting with with dragons, or with missing eyes, or as their fathers, which had them both laughing. Pre-game, Loki had sent a picture of himself with painted pigtails and pom poms, a simple caption ‘Look, I’m Jane. Raw Raw.’ He hadn’t gotten a reply, which meant Thor was on the field or preparing for it._

__

_The snapchat he had now, though. He inhaled sharply and took a snapshot of it before it could disappear. Be damned if Thor saw that he had. He would rather choke on his tongue._

__

_Thor is clearly just out of a shower. He’s by his locker and Loki can just barely see Steve’s arm in the left side of the picture, but he doesn’t care. Thor, shirtless and damp, hair wild around his face. He’s flushed from his victory, or from the heat of the water. Loki doesn’t care. His arm his up like he’s flexing, and Loki can’t breathe._

‘ _We won. Best way to go out.’_

S _imple, easy and calm. It does not express the pure, unadulterated joy on Thor’s face, his stupid face. He’s grinning and it is magnificent and infuriating, all white, perfect teeth and blue eyes. Loki runs his tongue across his own teeth, subconscious. While he had never had bad teeth, and his top teeth were impeccable, his lower teeth were a little crooked. Not a lot, just. Just some. And it bothered him, in this moment. In few others._

H _is phone shook in his hand and he moved to his text messages. Thor’s little bubble pops up in the message feed._

_You took a snapshot? Pervert._

_It takes Loki too long for his mind to come up with a response. His breathing is quick. What does he say. What does he do. He wouldn’t tell Thor the reason why, not in a thousand centuries would he. Not for any reason ever._

**_Just wait until you see what I do with this new blackmail._**

//=//

He’d done some pretty impressive photoshop using Blingee and maybe Brazzers logos. Thor hadn’t asked after that, because it was so quintessentially Loki. So perfect a response. He had no doubt that was the reason for the snapshot.

He would never know it’s true purpose.

Loki settled back in his bed, squirmed back into the pillows. Then poked through his photos until he found it. 

He felt a tightness between his hips, a hitch, spider legs crawling up his spine. It was wrong and that was what made it so perfect. Childhood friends. Childhood friends.

His father was gone on business, and his brothers had moved out years ago. He was alone, and so let himself relax as he eyed the image in his hand. Thor was a beautiful kind of creature, exquisitely tan. He was dumb, too, and had gotten a tattoo of a tribal rune on his arm on his birthday. Loki had looked it up.

It meant strength. Of course it did.

He eased his free hand down over his own bare chest, tips of his fingers sliding down across his belly and ducked under the hem of his pajama pants, just touched the bristle of hair there when Hel decided it was time for attention and leaped onto the bed. She head-butted his hand so had that he dropped his phone on his face with an indignant squawk. 

For that, she was sit in the hallway and not allowed back into his bedroom. 

He settled back on his bed and stared at his ceiling. He didn’t need the phone anymore, that beautifully arrogant grin was burned into his mind for eternity. His hands travelled again as he closed his eyes.

Strong, wide shoulders. Thor could bench press Loki and it wasn’t an exaggeration. Loki was tall but he was as thin as a lamp post, and Thor had told him how much he could lift. It made Loki’s blood sing, and he sighed through his mouth once he got his pants down below his knees. 

Where Loki was so pale he was almost ghostly, Thor has a natural tan. A natural athlete, out and about all day every day he could be. It made his teeth whiter and his eyes bluer. The wildness of his long hair fit him, unruly and yet shining and bright. He tilted his head to the side, fingers gliding over the sharp angles of his own hip bones. Bone-y, that was Loki. Knobby kneed and awkward, all angles and no grace.

Thor was everything Loki wasn’t. Strong, handsome. Kind, and honest. His smiles genuine and his heart wide open for everyone to see. It broke Loki a little. Thor would be going off to college and would make so many new friends so quickly. Loki had little doubt in his mind that half of them would abuse that fool-hearty kindness of his friend. But Loki was nothing but a high schooler, a junior. He knew nothing of the world yet.

When he finally let his hand drift where it wanted, where it could wrap around himself, he let his imagination run. And such a dramatic thing it was, his imagination.

His hand was far too thin to pretend it was Thor but that meant almost nothing. Thor was watching, he was always watching. Sitting at his desk with his knees open wide in that confident way he sat, eyes on Loki and only he.

“You’re too quiet tonight,” Loki hears him, and he just sighs through his teeth and lifts into his hand. “A first, I think, for your tongue to be tired.”

“You’re not real,” and Loki is sure he’s said the words but all he hears in a whine. His cheeks heat and his hand tightens. 

“I’m real,” Thor disagrees. “And you are too quiet.”

“I miss you,” Loki admits, pressed his knees open wider so his unattended hand can be busy. He’s never brave enough, has never been brave enough to try. But he touches, because Thor is watching and he wants Thor to see. To know what he has done to a poor, lonely kid’s life. “You’ll be gone forever.”

“One more week,” Thor’s voice is so infuriatingly gentle and Loki wants to scream. He shies away at the first touch of his finger, but the response is pressed down and out of his mind. “One more week and I’ll be back to sending you stupid cat pictures.”

“They aren’t stupid, they make me laugh,” Loki laughs as if to prove a point. But it isn’t humorous, and he can feel the wet on his cheeks. He’s too-hot and angry, and he’s lonely and he’s so close. He gives up on his half hearted attempts as bravery and fingering to run his hand up his chest instead and pinch and his nipples, and he makes a sound like a sob. 

“You are a beautiful thing,” Thor doesn’t say because Thor isn’t there. But Loki hears it anyway and he comes with a noise that is neither entirely pleased nor entirely frustrated. 

It is an unfinished thing, an empty ending that relieved no tension. It is not unlike Christine, his hazy mind offers. Unfinished, leaving much to be desired. But, it is done.

“I want to hate you,’ Loki whispers into the dark. No one is there, not even his cat. “You’ll leave me, and I’ll have no one. And I won’t ask you to stay because you’ll be happy and shining like the sun in so many new lives while mine goes dark without you.”

His phone, from where it lay on the bed near his knee, vibrates twice. An email. He knows who it’s from, and doesn’t move to check it.

“I want to hate you. But I can’t.”


End file.
